


picture perfect

by specs of glitter (nekrateholic)



Category: Mamamoo
Genre: F/F, Fluff, growing up and in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 15:17:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17789801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekrateholic/pseuds/specs%20of%20glitter
Summary: how not to get into photography when you coexist on the same reality as kim yongsun





	picture perfect

**Author's Note:**

> for be my valentine! <3  
> you can find this particular prompt in the oh so creative summary  
> all the fills are [here](https://allmyladies.dreamwidth.org/4847.html) :3

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” The pretty girl says to Byulyi after she’s been staring at her from across the table for the majority of lunch. Byulyi isn’t entirely sure what she means but she’s pretty sure the girl is older than her, at least by a year, and her ten-year-old heart bursts with determination to prove herself to the pretty girl.

“Okay.” She mutters to herself. The pretty girl beams at her.

Later that night, Byulyi sneaks into her parents’ bedroom and steals the family camera. It’s an old model, one of those that Byulyi has seen people use in movies and then somehow make pictures happen in tiny, funny lit rooms. She’s not entirely sure how it works but knows a picture _can_  happen and that’s good enough. So she sneaks out of her parents’ room with the camera hidden under her fluffy pyjamas and hides it in her school bag.

She tries the camera in the safety of her room a few times, just so she doesn’t embarrass herself tomorrow – puts it to her face like she’s seen her dad do. It takes a few clicks and almost blinding herself with the flash once, but Byulyi’s pretty sure she figures it out in the end.

*

She pulls the pretty girl aside at the end of lunch and pulls out the camera from her bag with barely contained triumph. The girl blinks at her, then laughs. She pokes at the camera, mutters “Cool,” then poses, face scrunched up in a smile and a peace sign covering half of her face.

Byulyi blinks a few times, confused. Then – right – a picture. She snaps one quickly, tries a second one just in case, but the camera makes a pitiful, empty sound.

“Huh,” the pretty girl says. “I think you ran out of film.”

“Right,” Byulyi replies. She’s not entirely sure what film is and how it’s relevant to her camera but pretty girl doesn’t have to know that.

“My name is Yongsun,” pretty girl says. She beams at Byulyi and it’s like… sparkles? Yongsun’s eyes kind of look like the glitter glue Byulyi covers the princesses in her coloring book with.

Yongsun’s staring at her expectantly, still smiling and she feels a little stupid, for some reason. She hides behind her camera and mumbles, “Byulyi.”

A second later, Yongsun’s head pops around the camera and into her line of sight. Byulyi jumps back, startled, and Yongsun giggles. “Nice to meet you, Byulyi”.

*

She gets grounded when their parents make the pictures happen. By then, Byulyi knows what film is, and knows why Yongsun said she ran out of it. Even if her parents are still mad she took the camera without permission, they let her keep the five awkwardly placed pictures of her nose and, most importantly, the one of Yongsun, her grin half hidden behind a peace sign. Byulyi thinks the grounding was totally worth it.

*

Byulyi is sixteen when Yongsun kisses her in the broom closet under the staircase in her house.

She’s sixteen and a proud owner of three albums full of pictures of her and Yongsun, flowers, stray cats, Yongsun, their other friends, Yongsun. She has a phone with a camera now and while it is useful sometimes, she still prefers her actual camera over it. There’s a whole shoebox full with rolls upon rolls of film under her bed to prove it.

But none of this matters because Yongsun is here and now, in the dusty broom closet, Byulyi feels just as excited as ten-year-old her, hiding behind her camera at the end of lunch hour.

“I wish I could take a picture of you right now,” Byulyi mutters when Yongsun pulls away, out of breath but smiling so, so wide.

She giggles, pats Byulyi’s shoulder. “Of course you do.”

Byulyi doesn’t take an actual picture, for a lot of reasons, but vows she will in the future. Someday.

(She does, over the years – Yongsun grinning, the end of a half-eaten pocky stick gripped between her teeth, Byulyi’s raspberry lipgloss smeared on her lips; Yongsun with her hair spread out on the pillow like a halo, eyes soft and smile softer, reaching up towards the camera – towards Byulyi; Yongsun with flowers in her hair, pouting because she stole Byulyi’s ice cream and it dripped on her brand new sundress. She gets enough pictures that the albums fill two whole shelves when she finally moves in with Yongsun.)

*

At some point during the years, Yongsun explains she didn’t really know what “Take a picture, it’ll last longer” meant either, back in the day. She overheard a nice-looking lady say it in the movie her parents watched the night before and she thought it’s really cool.

Byulyi falls over laughing, not before she makes sure to shove Yongsun as well. “You defined my future _on accident?”_

“I didn’t know you’d take it so seriously!” Yongsun whines, defensive, and Byulyi laughs even harder. Eventually, Yongsun joins, and they’re both laughing until it fades into tiny, breathless hiccups rather than real laughter. “I’m really glad you took it so seriously, though,” Yongsun adds when the hiccups fade as well.

Byulyi runs a hand through her hair, recently bleached, and smiles, letting the strands slip through her fingers. “I’m really glad you overheard that movie, too.”

*

Out of all the pictures Byulyi has of Yongsun, though, this one has to be her favorite:

Yongsun, with flowers in her hair, a pretty white sundress with the ocean big and blue and beautiful behind her. She’s facing away from the camera, wind picking up her dress and stray petals from the bouquet in her hand. She’s smiling and her hair is that beautiful blonde again, and she looks like a goddess. Although to be fair, Yongsun has always looked like a goddess to Byulyi – in her natural color, hair mussed up and pyjamas wrinkly after she just woke up just as much as Yongsun in her prom dress, long and elegant and stealing the air out of Byulyi’s lungs. She’s a lot more reluctant to admit it these days, though (because all it gets her is teasing. Yongsun always beams at her after, in that way that makes Byulyi’s heart skip more beats than usual, so it’s okay).

“Nonsense,” Yongsun grumbles each time Byulyi proclaims her love for that particular picture. “This is the best one.”

She then pushes that one frame in the hands of whoever’s listening to their squabble. It’s a little worn around the edges like it has been cradled a million times (it has).

It’s this:

Yongsun and Byulyi, on that same beach, the ocean big and blue and beautiful behind them. There’s a flower arch above them, and Yongsun still looks like a goddess. They’re facing away from the camera but it’s because they’re facing each other instead, and Byulyi feels that same tug in her gut she did back then, just as strong.

She likes to say Yongsun steals everyone’s attention; it’s like Byulyi’s not even there. Yongsun argues with a passion each time, so ridiculously offended that the argument always ends with Byulyi laughing until she runs out of breath.

(It’s a lie: they both know Byulyi’s favorite picture is that first one, from sixteen years ago, with Yongsun’s face half-hidden behind a peace sign.)


End file.
